


Like Batman and Robin

by poetroe



Series: Fire and Ice [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/F, Fire Powers, Fluff, Henry-centric, Ice Powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-17 06:28:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16089959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetroe/pseuds/poetroe
Summary: If someone, like his mom, Emma, or even Grace saw him like this, they would tell Henry he’s in way in over his head. It’s eleven o’clock at night, Emma and his mom are out fighting crime and Henry has spent the last hour going through his closet and taping his brand-new superhero costume together.With his mother being Boston's very own superhero and crimefighter, Henry feels the need to help out. Things don't really go as planned.





	Like Batman and Robin

**Author's Note:**

> To my dear first time readers, please read the first installment in this series!! you'll be confused otherwise lol. Okay so ever since people commented that they liked Henry in Fire and Ice, I wanted to write something that was Henry-centric. I really enjoyed writing another fic in this superpowered universe, and you guys are probably thrilled to hear that I have an idea for one, maybe two more fics set in this AU. Anyways I hope you guys like this, as always I would love to hear from y'all and have fun reading !!

It’s summer vacation and Henry is bored out of his mind. He knows his video games inside out, there is never anything good on the tv and on top of it all, his mom and her girlfriend are always busy protecting the city. It’s the same thing every day. As soon as the sun has started disappearing behind the highest buildings of the city on its way down towards the horizon, his mom doesn’t know how fast she has to put on her Black Blizzard costume and fly off, literally. Henry knows it’s because the city is never safe, and that his mom really likes spending time with Emma, but he’s starting to feel a bit… useless.

“It’s okay, kid,” Emma tells him one day, “you can be a hero without superpowers. Just look at your mom. She puts away all kinds of creeps in the courthouse.” At that, Henry’s mom does a thing where she blushes and runs off to the kitchen, hiding behind the clamoring of cutlery and casually starting to bake the apple turnovers she knows Emma likes. Henry rolls his eyes.

“That’s not what I mean,” he answers. “It just sucks that _I_ have to go to bed when _you_ guys get to kick bad-guy ass. Besides, I’m way too young to be a lawyer. I’m eleven, Emma.” Emma just snorts, then glances at Regina briefly before leaning in closer to Henry.

“Look,” she says, “I might know a guy who can help. Someone I used to do business with. Just—don’t tell your mom yet.”

“Why?” Henry asks, a little confused. Is this guy someone from Emma’s past as a supervillain? If he’s being honest, Henry doesn’t know if the prospect scares or excites him. Probably a little bit of both. Emma scribbles something on the notepad his mom keeps around and tears off the paper as subtly as she can.

“Here,” Emma whispers. “I’m taking your mom to the movies tomorrow—you can go then. If you tell him that I sent you, he’ll help you.” Henry, very aware off the importance of secrecy, nods and doesn’t say anything else. He stuffs the piece of paper in the front pocket of his shorts, but not before reading:

Mr. Gold Pawnbroker & Antiquities Dealer

1130 Washington St in South End

With a grin, Henry turns his attention back to the tv. He has already seen this episode of Avengers Assemble, but that’s okay. Soon enough, he wouldn’t have to rely on cartoons for superpowered action, anymore.

***

Henry spends the next morning in his room, under the guise of reordering his comics but really planning the route he would have to take to get to the pawnshop on his computer. It’s not too far and he’s already taken the Silver Line bus before, once. So, after his mom enters his room to see all his comics strewn around and to tell him that they’re leaving, it only takes Henry five minutes to get ready and leave the apartment, too.

The pawnshop is easy enough to find, between Google Maps on Henry’s phone, Regina’s old iPhone 4, and the sign hanging from the front of the building. When Henry steps inside, he’s suddenly overwhelmed with the sheer amount of _stuff_ lining the walls, standing on the shelves and in the corners, even hanging from the ceiling. Henry would have to take his mom here once, because then she’d never complain about his room being a mess ever again. There were all sorts of objects, including an expensive looking chess set, a Mickey Mouse telephone, a golden egg, a dusty genie lamp, and what looks like it’s a _real_ sword.

The adventurer and avid fantasy book reader in Henry awakens at seeing all these items, some of which are ordinary but others seem to exude an air of mystery. For a couple of minutes, surrounded by objects that all look like they come with a story, Henry forgets why he set foot into the pawn shop in the first place.

He’s looking at a metal object, which, including the pedestal it’s standing on, is about three feet tall. It consists of brass rings positioned over each other, forming a strange sort of sphere.

“That’s an armillary sphere,” a voice suddenly shakes Henry out of his reverie. He turns around to see a greying man, leaning on a walking stick with a golden tip, observing him with a slight smile. “It’s a model of the sky, mapping things such as the sun and the earth, and the astronomical events they’re involved in, like eclipses,” the man continues. “Interesting without a doubt, but beyond of the price range of a young man like yourself, I’d assume.” Henry glances at the sphere again, then lets his shoulders sag.

“Yeah, probably,” he mutters. Like with so many things in this place, Henry wishes he could just bring it along with him, just to look at it some more, to study it in the comfort of his own room.

“If not the armillary sphere, what can I help you with today?” the man asks. “I’m Mr. Gold, by the way. The proprietor of this humble establishment.”

“I don’t know what proprietor means,” Henry answers, pulling the crumpled up piece of paper from the pocket of his shorts, “but if you’re Mr. Gold, then I’ve come to ask you something. My friend—her name is Emma, she told me to come here. And that you can help me.”

“I’m so sorry, but I don’t believe I know anyone by that name,” Mr. Gold says. Henry heaves a sigh. Emma probably isn’t going to like this, but then again, she told him to come here, so.

“You might know her as Nightflame,” Henry says. “She told me you might have something to… well, to give me something I can be a hero with. Not powers, necessarily, but—”

“Ah, I see,” Mr. Gold interrupts, his demeanor having changed entirely ever since Henry namedropped the hero. Where previously he had been leaning heavily on the walking stick, now the old man seems entirely revigorated. Henry doesn’t know what to make of it, but by then Mr. Gold is talking again. “So you want something that makes you strong, that enables you to help people, correct?” Henry nods.

“Like Nightflame and the Black Blizzard do,” he says.

“Right, right,” Mr. Gold says as he moves behind the counter, then behind a curtain. Henry can hear things being picked up and put down again as Mr. Gold is busy finding whatever it is he’s looking for. “This,” Mr. Gold says when he reappears, this time with a smooth black box in his hand, “this will give you control over the elements. Anything mystic comes with a price, however.” Henry, unable to keep his eyes off the mystery box, just nods.

“Sure,” he says resolutely. “I don’t care how long I’ll have to save up for it, I want to buy it.” Mr. Gold chuckles, and puts the box down on the counter.

“That’s not what I mean, young man.” Henry looks up, and sees that the look in Mr. Golds eyes is all business. When he doesn’t say anything, Mr. Gold continues. “Using this will, like with any exercise you undertake, tire you out. So don’t use it too often, or too long at a time.”

“I won’t,” Henry says as he snatches the box from the counter. He’s waited long enough, honestly. And if Mr. Gold minds it, he doesn’t let it show. “So,” Henry says, “what do I owe you?” Mr. Gold smiles.

“Nothing at all. Tell our dear Nightflame that this was me, doing her a favor. For old times’ sake, if you will.” Henry nods and turns the box over in his hands again. Despite the fact that he’s been holding it in his hands, the material stays cool to the touch.

***

Henry decides not to open the box until he gets home. After all, he has no clue what’s actually in it; just that it can’t be any bigger than the box that carries it. After closing the door to his room and almost stepping on his favorite Spider-Man comic, Henry sits down on his bed. Careful of anything that might jump out at him, he opens the box.

Inside lies a simple, brown bracelet. Henry puts it on, fastens it so that it sits snug against his wrist, and waits. Nothing happens.

“Great,” Henry mutters, to no one in particular. Maybe Mr. Gold should consider including an instruction manual with all the mystical items he sells. With a sigh, Henry saunters to the kitchen, and makes himself some cereal for lunch. He figures his mom would tell him off, but then again, Henry also figures he’s old enough to take care of himself when it comes to things like this. He turns on the tv unconsciously, and sits down on the couch. All of these things are more or less routine for Henry at this point; all but the way the milk starts trembling as he reaches for his spoon. Henry blinks—he must have been imagining that, right? He grabs his spoon, and sure enough the milk starts moving again in a way that is entirely unnatural. “Woah,” Henry whispers softly.

Because he’s still hungry, Henry finishes his cereal first. But, after having put his bowl in the sink, he figures it’s time to check out what exactly this strange bracelet can do. So, he turns on the tap and lets a small stream of water run, then puts his hands on both sides of the stream and concentrates. Sure enough, the stream starts to bend, first to his right hand and then to his left.

“Awesome,” Henry mutters, completely captivated by his newfound ability to manipulate water. Then he hears the front door close, so quick as lightning he turns the water off and leans against the counter in a way he hopes doesn’t look too suspicious. “Hey mom,” he says as his mother enters the kitchen. “How was the movie?” Regina hesitates a little before answering.

“It was… not exactly what I would have picked—” A surreptitious smile directed at Emma accompanies those words. “—but the company was adequate.” Emma grins like it’s Christmas morning instead of Wednesday afternoon, and Henry rolls his eyes at the two of them again. His mom turns back to him. “What have you been doing today, sweetheart?” Henry freezes.

“Nothing much, just…” Diversion has to be the way to go, here. “…eating cereal.” Henry knows his mother too well, because just like that, Regina’s eyes narrow and she sighs.

“For lunch? Henry, honestly. How many times have I told you that a healthy diet consist of not only—” Henry tunes out his mother’s lecture in favor of glancing at Emma, who sneakily points at his bracelet, then gives him a thumbs up.

***

If someone, like his mom, Emma, or even Grace saw him like this, they would tell Henry he’s in way in over his head. It’s eleven o’clock at night, Emma and his mom are out fighting crime and Henry has spent the last hour going through his closet and taping his brand-new superhero costume together.

Altogether, it consists of the bracelet, his white soccer shorts, the oldest pair of sneakers he owns that still fit and a blue hoodie with a red towel duct-taped to the shoulders. Henry also has a homemade mask: a dishtowel, rolled up and tied around his head, with two holes cut out to see through. It probably looks completely bush-league, but Henry knows as well as anyone who has seen the Spider-Man or Iron Man trilogy that every good superhero costume is a constant work in progress. So, dressed head to toe in red, white and blue, he heads out.

Although he has only practiced on water before, Henry is pretty much convinced that the bracelet reacts to what he wants, how he feels. And that, if he concentrates hard enough, the elements will submit to his will. It feels like pure, untamed power and that feeling is probably why Henry is only very excited at the prospect of walking through the city at night, instead of very scared.

When he leaves the streets that are familiar to him behind, it occurs to Henry that what he’s doing might possibly be very, very stupid. Here he is, dressed as a kid who forgot Halloween isn’t until a couple of months, in a part of town that’s probably dangerous, after dark. At least he has his phone, for emergencies. And the bracelet. With a deep sigh, Henry calms his nerves, and continues on walking.

For the longest time, nothing happens. On the one hand, that’s good: it gives Henry the time to practice some more with the bracelet, this time by conjuring up tiny flames in the palm of his hand and around his fingers, and by blowing gust of wind at the general direction of any suspicious looking shadows. On the other hand, it’s super boring and totally defeats the purpose of him being out on the streets at all.

Just when Henry thinks it’s time to give up and go home, a strong hand grips his shoulder, causing him to jump and quickly turn around. A tired-looking man is standing in front of him. He probably came out of the dark alley Henry just passed, because before that, it had just been Henry walking in the yellow light of the street lamps.

“Uh, hi?” Henry says hesitantly, a little unsure about how to proceed.

“You shouldn’t be out here this late, kid,” the guy says. “Especially dressed like that.” His voice is low and raspy, and his breath smells like smoke. Henry does a little shrug thing with his shoulders to get the man to drop the hand that’s still on his shoulder, but it doesn’t work.

“Okay,” Henry answers. “I, uh, I’m on my way home, actually.” The man nods approvingly, and pinches his shoulder once before letting go.

“Good,” he says. “It’s not safe out here for kids. Hurry up and go to bed.” With that, the man turns back around and leaves Henry alone.

Henry lets out a shuddering sigh. Despite the fact that the stranger had no bad intentions when coming up to him, the encounter is still one of the more scary things Henry has experienced lately. Straightening out his back and shoulders, Henry keeps on walking.

He’s just turned a street corner when a tall man with broad shoulders bumps into him.

“You better watch where you’re going, little boy,” he says. The sheer size difference between the man and Henry makes him swallow uneasily. It once again occurs to Henry that he might be making the biggest mistake of his life.

“Sorry,” he replies, before making a move to quickly start walking again. However, before he can do so, the man grabs him by his hair and pulls him backwards. Henry flinches at the sudden pain and blinks a couple of times to prevent any tears from rolling down his cheeks. He’s a _superhero_. He doesn’t have to cry.

“Look,” the man says as he crouches down in front of Henry. He has a gleam in his eyes that Henry doesn’t trust at all. “You say you’re sorry, but how do I know if you really _mean_ it?”

“I do!” Henry exclaims. He’s fidgeting in the man’s grasp, eager to be free but careful not to move around too much, fearing another yank on his hair. “I’m sorry!”

“I don’t believe you,” the man says with a menacing grin, “so how about you show me where you live and we’ll work out a deal for some… financial compensation.” Henry can feel his eyes tearing up again and his lower lip starts to quiver, so he breathes in deeply through his nose and bites down on his lip. No crying. He’s a _superhero._

“No,” he manages to say. “No way.” The man’s grin widens, showing teeth as he reaches around his back and pulls out a gun, that had been tucked in his waistband.

“Yes way,” he laughs, and Henry feels pure dread and terror settling in his body, weighing him down, turning the blood in his veins to ice. A couple of tears are threatening to escape, so he shuts his eyes tight and brings his hand to his wrist, clutching the mystical bracelet. No tears. No need to cry. He’s a _superhero._

***

Henry is stressing out. The initial shock at encountering a criminal has abated enough for him to clear his head and think about his options. He had been forced to start walking, so Henry is dutifully leading the man back the way he had come from. In an effort not to rouse too much suspicion, the man had let go of his head, instead walking closely behind him. The memory of the cold metal of the gun pressed against his temple is enough to stop Henry from doing anything rash, anyway.

So, the gun is a problem. But, which is what Henry realizes when he’s thinking about his options, it gives him space, as well. If he timed everything right, he could use the bracelet to get the upper hand and incapacitate the guy. He had seen his mom do it a dozen times on tv: just freeze the bastard’s arms and legs together, and that would be that. Henry bites the inside of his cheek in indecisiveness. There is still the risk of getting shot, with the possibility of dying. It all depends on the place, he knows; Nightflame got shot twice, once in her leg and once in her lower back, and still managed to make it to his balcony.

It’s that thought that makes Henry decide. He’s going to do it. He’s going to be a superhero, like the Black Blizzard, like Nightflame. Henry keeps walking, and takes a deep breath. He has to be careful not to give the man any clues that he’s about to do something rash. Another deep breath, and then—

It all happens really quickly. Henry lets flames burst into the ground from his closed fists, which propel him upwards and about 6 feet into the sky. Then, he just aims his palms at the man and thinks snow, ice, _cold_ , and sure enough an icy breeze erupts from his hands and freezes the man’s entire body from the neck down. His attack is completed and Henry falls back down, landing on his butt.

His heart is racing and Henry feels the adrenaline rush through his body, and he thinks about how great this is, his very first time stopping crime! But then, like a sledgehammer, a burst of exhaustion hits him and promptly brings him to his knees. No, Henry thinks, what if he melts, no I have to stay strong and bring this man to the authorities. I have to—

Before Henry can do or think anything else, he faints; falling face first onto the cold street.

***

A familiar voice wakes him back up.

“Henry? Henry, sweetheart, can you hear me?” Henry knows this voice better than any other. A pair of cool hands caress his cheek and carefully push back his hair from his face.

“Mom?” he tries. The hands still momentarily. Henry slowly opens his eyes. It’s his mom hovering over him, sure enough, but… the mask. He smiles. “Blizzard, I mean.” The mask kind of obscures her eyes, but Henry can see them fill with tears as strong arms curl around his shoulders and bring him up into a hug.

The Black Blizzard helps him sit up straight and that’s when Henry sees her counterpart, Nightflame. It’s still dark, the only light coming from the hero’s fiery hands, that seem to…

“Wait, what are you doing?” Henry asks. His head is pounding, but this is more important. This is about the bad guy _he_ caught. Nightflame glances down at him, grimaces slightly and then continues thawing the ice.

“Is this your doing, little man?” she says. Henry silently nods and keeps watching as Nightflame’s hands roam over the solid block of ice around the man’s limbs and torso. Maybe he had overdone it a bit.

“Henry?” his mom says, but Henry can’t look at her. He knows how worried she gets; and yet he had put himself in danger. Does that make him a bad son? “Henry,” his mom says again, “do you… do you have powers too?” Henry frowns, then looks down at his wrist.

“No,” he says softly. “I have this—” He lifts up his arm for his mom and Emma to see. “—this bracelet. It lets me control the elements.” Henry dares to glance at his mom, but her face doesn’t betray anything.

“Woah, cool,” Nightflame says, which earns her a death glare from the Blizzard. She quickly turns back to the thawing.

“It, uh, it has side effects, though,” Henry continues. “Using it tires you out a lot. This guy—he threatened me with a gun, so I—”

“He did _what_?!” the Blizzard interrupts, furiously. Henry quickly grabs his mom’s hands in his own.

“It’s okay,” he says. “I waited until I had some space to move, then I used fire to jump up high, like how Nightflame uses it to fly, and then I blasted him with ice, like you do. And… then I fainted.” Henry finishes it off with a sheepish smile and hopes it’ll make his mother go easy on him.

“How could you,” his mom starts, and Henry realizes his hope was in vain, “how could you put yourself in danger like that? And I don’t even want to know where you got something so dangerous to begin with, a bracelet that gives you powers, _really_ , Henry?” She’s looking at him now with fear and disbelief. She’s disappointed in him, Henry knows.

“I’m sorry,” he says, so silent that it’s almost a whisper. “I just wanted to be the one catching bad guys for once.” He lets his shoulders sag and his head hang forward. “I’m really sorry,” Henry says again. He kind of expects his mother to go right back to being angry with him and start lecturing him about all the kinds of dangers he’d been subjected to, but instead, she stays quiet and pulls him into another hug.

“It’s okay, baby,” she murmurs into his ear. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

***

In the end, they leave Nightflame to take care of the frozen man, and when Henry and his mom get home, she sends him straight to bed. His mother doesn’t say anything when he hands her the bracelet, or when she tucks him in, but she does give him a kiss on his cheek before she leaves, so Henry thinks it might all turn out alright in the end.

When he wakes up the next morning, Emma is there.

“How are you feeling?” she asks as he enters the kitchen. She’s standing at the stove, dutifully pushing some eggs around in the skillet.

“Bad,” Henry answers. “My head still kind of hurts.”

“Yeah, well, serves you right for letting your mom worry so much,” Emma says as she pours him some water and slides it over to him on the table, along with some painkillers. “Me too, for that matter.” That confuses Henry.

“Why did you even send me to Gold if you didn’t think I could handle whatever he gave me?” he asks with a frown.

“Because,” Emma says as she takes the skillet and tilts it so the eggs slide out, onto a plate, “I thought that Gold would just give you a toy to, you know, play heroics. Maybe like a sword or something, I know he has one of those. I didn’t think he would give you something that would give you _powers_ , no less that you would feel the need to what, try them out?” She gives him a stern look as she puts the plate down on the table, along with a knife, a fork and a glass of orange juice. Henry reaches over, but Emma slaps his hand away before he can do anything. “That’s for your mom,” she says.

“Look, I know it was a bad idea,” Henry says as he stands up and scours the kitchen for his Froot Loops. “I just wanted to… I don’t know. You guys always look so cool using your powers.” Just as he finds them, his mom enters the kitchen. She gives Emma a kiss on the cheek as a thank-you and starts on the eggs. “I guess that makes me jealous, huh?” Henry says as he pours milk into a bowl. “Wanting powers.”

“Darling, come here,” his mom suddenly speaks up. She pats the seat next to her, the one Henry had been sitting on earlier. Obediently, he walks over, sits down and starts on his cereal. His mom ruffles his hair, which usually annoys Henry a little bit, but after everything that’s happened, he lets her. “If what you really wanted is powers,” she starts, “all you would have had to do is wait.” Henry freezes, his spoon stuck in mid-air, and he slowly turns his head to look at his mom.

“What?” he asks hesitantly. Could she be serious? Could this mean…

“I have power over ice,” Regina continues, “and my mother did, too. She never used it, though, and never talked about it to a single soul. When that power manifested in me, well.” Henry watches as his mother lets out a sigh and he places his hand on her shoulder, for support. He knows that the relationship between his mom and his grandmother is a strained one. “She forbade me from ever using it, or showing it, or telling anyone. Of course, I defied her.”

“Right,” Henry says. He knows all about his mom’s rebellions against his grandmother, too. “Like with my dad.” His mom smiles warmly at him and nods.

“Like with your dad,” she echoes. Then she seems to notice Emma, who is looking a bit forlorn, clutching her mug in the kitchen. “Anyway, Henry, what I’m telling you is that I’m sure you don’t have to wait long for your own ice powers to develop. They’re a Mills family trait, at this point.” Despite everything his mother just told him, Henry still thinks all this is a little too convenient. He wants powers, and now his mom tells him he’s just going to get them?

“Exactly how sure are you?” Henry asks carefully.

“Very,” Regina answers. “I was your age when it happened to me.”

“Hey, me too!” Emma jumps in. She sets down her coffee on the table and sits down on the chair on the other side of Henry. “Actually, I might have been a little younger than you. So probably any day now, kid.”

“But how can you tell?” Henry asks. The prospect of him having powers has his mind racing at the speed of light. He’s thinking about everything, ranging from what he could do, what he would have to learn, how it would work, how it would feel. The bracelet was easy: think about an element and you can control it. Powers that came from within himself, though, how does that even work?

“I knew when I accidentally lit my jerk of a foster dad on fire,” Emma supplies with a grimace. It brings a smirk to his mom’s face, who then adds:

“I knew when I froze my mother’s soup, on the day she was hosting all of her _very distinguished friends_.” That makes Henry giggle. He loves the part of his mom that’s all cunning and playful. His mom’s story has also given him an idea. The perfect way to test whether his mom is right, and ice powers are a Mills family trait. Emma has started telling another story of the arson-y ways of her youth and is talking animatedly to Regina over his head, giving Henry the perfect opportunity to slide both of his hands forward, cupping Emma’s mug. He closes his eyes and concentrates, ignoring the warmth that the mug emits, instead focusing on snow, ice, _cold_.

“—long story short, they had to transfer me to another home, and they made me promise to never use my powers again,” Emma says, and she snorts. “Of course, it didn’t take long for me to break that promise.” Henry sees her hand move towards the mug so he quickly pulls his own hands back, and under the table. This is the moment of truth. Emma, still unaware of anything, brings the cup to her mouth and— “Regina, what the hell!”

“ _Language_ , Emma,” his mom replies, stoical.

“Okay, what the _heck_ ,” Emma says. “Why’d you freeze my coffee?” It worked! It actually worked! A bright smile breaks out across Henry’s face as he stares down at his hands.

“You were right, mom!” he says, grinning. “I have powers, too!” His mom returns his smile with a smirk of her own and pulls him close, but Emma just narrows her eyes at him.

“So it was you, huh? Et tu, Brute!” With that, she puts him in a headlock and starts rubbing her knuckles on his head. Henry just bursts into giggles and puts his hands on Emma’s side, before thinking of snow and ice, and—“Aah!” Emma shrieks as she lets him go in favor of grabbing his cold fingers, instead. “No fair!”

***

“So,” Henry says when they’ve all calmed down, “when do you think I could start my superhero training?”

“Maybe over the Christmas holidays,” his mother muses, while at the same time Emma says:

“As soon as possible, obviously.” This results in the two of them instantly turning towards each other with confusion.

“I agree with Emma,” Henry helpfully supplies. “Come on, mom, we could be a team! Like Batman and Robin, but with ice powers!” Regina purses her lips at him.

“Would that make me Bruce Wayne?” she asks skeptically.

“Sure, I mean why not,” Emma says with a grin. “You’re tall, dark and handsome, not to mention a rich philanthropist. If you can call being a hero philanthropy.” Henry doesn’t exactly know what a philanthropist is, but he can definitely see the comparison.

“Yeah mom! And Emma can be Catwoman,” he adds enthusiastically.

“I don’t know Henry,” Emma frowns, “I think I’m more of a dog person.”

“No, no, that’s a good one,” Henry’s mom says as she stands up and starts stacking up the dishes. “A jewel thief with questionable morality, who occasionally sleeps with her nemesis… it seems to tick all the boxes.” Henry pulls a face.

“Ew, gross.” And it is, but despite that a smile still appears on his face when his mom ruffles his hair affectionately on her way to the kitchen. Henry thinks about his ice powers, powers that aren’t developed at all yet but are there nonetheless. It’s strange to think that this was such a big deal to him up until this morning, because even if he wouldn’t have powers, he would still have this: talking about superheroes and comics with his mom, making fun of Emma and eating breakfast with just the three of them. And that’s all he really needs.


End file.
